They drew near the end of the alley. Revelers thronged the street beyond, some of them spilling into the alley, where they danced in small groups to the beat of a fife and drum corps. The dwarf elbowed a way through them and forced his way into the street. “By my father’s black beard, this is the largest crowd I’ve seen in ten lustrums,” he shouted above the noise. All around them, people were dancing in the street. The air was filled with the competing sounds of bands, voices raised in song, laughter, and shouting. Noisemakers, crackers, and whistles frightened dogs and small children and sent them barking, howling, or screaming through the crowds. All the while, the people danced, huge masses of them dancing together, so that all that could be seen were their heads or hats going up and down. There was no getting through them. They filled all of Horizon Road, so that the elf and dwarf were forced to detour down sidestreets and alleys.
All along their way, people tried to pull them aside in a friendly fashion, pushing flagons of wine and foamy ale into their hands. “We want to drink with a dwarf!” they shouted stupidly.
“Out of my way, you drunken fools,” the old dwarf laughed, as he pushed his way through them. He’d lived in Palanthas all his life, and he was used to the Palanthians’ insensitivity to “outsiders,” meaning any nonhuman, or for that matter any human not from Palanthas. It wasn’t that they were mean-spirited. They just didn’t know any better. “We have business in the Old City,” he shouted when they plucked at his sleeves.
The elf fared no better, and perhaps worse, as curious women clung to his elbows and invited him to a quiet place for a private word. He’d gracefully dislodge them, almost reluctantly, for he knew the old dwarf, despite the smile in his beard, was impatient to get to the Great Plaza. Meanwhile, Cael resisted his natural inclination to relieve those he met of their superfluous wealth, but only to spare himself the dwarfs ire.
Palanthas was built upon a design meant to reflect the perfection of the heavenly spheres. In the center of the city lay the Great Plaza-a vast marble courtyard surrounded by the city’s most important buildings, including the Lord’s Palace, the Courthouse, and the barracks of the City Guard. Roads led out from the Great Plaza like the spokes of a wheel, while secondary roads were laid in concentric circles, spreading like ripples in a pool. All roads from the Great Plaza led outward.
Not long after the city was founded, a great wall was built around it, and over the years it was modified and improved until it was reckoned one of the architectural marvels of all Krynn. Where the roads passed through the wall, there stood seven mighty gates, with gate towers rising over three hundred feet above the streets of the city.
The wall was, in fact, two walls, one inside the other, with a deep muddy trench between them. It ran in a great circle, and everything within the wall was called the Old City. All the oldest and wealthiest families of Palanthas lived within the Old City, the Great Library was built here, as was the now-vanished Tower of High Sorcery. All that remained of the ancient tower was a strange pool surrounded by a small forest of magical trees-the Shoikan Grove. In the Old City also stood the Temple of Paladine, as well as the more recently constructed Shrine of Takhisis.
However, the original city planners had failed to appreciate how large and important Palanthas would grow to become. As the city outgrew its first wall and spread outward, houses and businesses began to fill up the valley between the surrounding hills and to dot their slopes. The city outside the first wall was called New City, though much of it was as old or older than many of the buildings in the Old City. In New City could be found the main markets, as well as the Old Temple District and the University. Here also lay The Dwarven Spring, the ancient public house belonging to one of the oldest families of Palanthas-the Hammerfell dwarves.
This day, the day of the Spring Dawning Festival, the streets of New City were packed with people from all over Krynn. They had come by way of the seven roads leading into the city, but most had traveled the Knight’s High Road-the only overland passage through the Vingaard Mountains, an impregnable natural barrier that surrounded the city and protected it from the outside world. A great many more had arrived by ship, finding port in the calm waters of the Bay of Branchala. They filled Palanthas’ inns and public houses, wine shops and streets. Those who couldn’t find lodging camped in the parks and plazas, any place where a tent could be pitched or a blanket spread. Coins of steel and silver fairly rained into the merchants’ pockets. Vendors packed the city’s markets with their stalls like so many fishermen along a pier, casting their lines into the surf of humanity rolling along their shores. Hundreds of wagonloads of provisions flowed into the Merchandising District every morning, only to flow out again by midday to fill orders arriving from the city’s inns. Only the bakers complained, for they were kept elbow deep in dough morning, noon, and night.
The Spring Dawning Festival was also one of the few times of the year when the Knights of Takhisis relaxed their control over the city’s traffic. Flow into and out of the Old City was usually carefully watched at the seven gates, but on the day of the Spring Dawning Festival, when many thousands were crowding their way to the Great Plaza, not even the formidable Dark Knights could track every person passing through. Over thirty years had passed since the Dark Knights had wrested the city from the hands of the Knights of Solamnia, but the city continued to prosper. Indeed, some people thought business prospered because of the Knights. It seemed their greatest concern was maintaining an iron-fisted rule over the city. Though the Knights’ laws were more strict than any the city had ever known, and their punishments more ruthless than civilized folk were used to seeing, there were not a few citizens who were glad of it. The level of lawlessness was at an all-time low. The city’s jails were filled, and the ancient and seemingly untouchable Thieves’ Guild had been destroyed. In the last ten years, the Spring Dawning Festival had grown from a civilized celebration to a veritable carnival.
Although the Knights maintained a show of force at the seven gates, this day. they did more gawking than guarding. The Spring Dawning Festival was a holiday for them as well. Many looked forward to a magnificent feast to be held that evening in their barracks’ mess halls, while their officers prepared for the social functions to be held throughout the night in the homes of nobles or aboard yachts anchored in the bay. All through the day, discipline was relaxed for one and all. Officers and soldiers laughed and joked among themselves as they lounged around the gates, leaning on their pikes, pointing out colorful characters in the crowd or sneaking cups of wine behind their shields. They kept only a casual watch for weapons and other contraband. The strict policy of checking identification papers was relaxed.
Cael and his dwarven companion eventually found themselves squeezed into the crush at the Horizon Road Gate. Cael’s leg had tired him a bit, so his coppery hair clung damply to his pale flushed face, but the old gray-bearded dwarf fairly panted. His bucket of beer was empty, and his dwarven patience was as thin as the hairs covering his flushed pate. He cursed and shoved, trying in vain to hurry the crowd through the gate. While they waited, a tremendous boom shook the buildings, and looking up, they saw beyond the city walls a fireball hanging in the sky.
“Reorx’s beard! We’re late! That’s the signal for the joust,” the dwarf snarled. As though to reinforce his words, a fanfare of trumpets floated to them on the fine spring breeze. A second fireball exploded in the sky, shaking them to their bones, but a third, appearing as a point of light streaking up from the center of the city, sputtered and failed.
“Look at that!” someone behind them commented. Turning, they saw a small group of young men and women, all dressed in robes of red, pointing at the failed fireworks. “It is as I said,” one hissed. They huddled together, whispering.